


In Her Wake

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Developing Friendships, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Friendship, Girl Saves Boy, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Recruitment, job interview, meeting in the rain, mentoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 11:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Oswald meets Fish Mooney for the first time





	In Her Wake

Oswald gave a hoarse cry of pain as he received another kick to the stomach.  
He couldn’t help it. It seemed three was his limit.  
He had curled up as much as he could on the wet ground but one of his attackers had hold of his legs and was making sure his accomplice’s shoe was reaching soft tissue.  
As he glared up at the first attacker as he prepared another kick, he smiled venomously as he saw the gap he had created when he had punched one of his front teeth out.  
He closed his eyes and waited.  
But the kick never came.  
For a moment he thought he had passed out and was beyond the point of experiencing physical sensation, until he cracked one eye open and saw they were no longer alone in the alley.

A woman was standing at the mouth of the alley, sheltered by a black umbrella. She was wearing a long leather coat, the black material reflecting the streetlights above in a golden sheen. Her dark hair was streaked with vivid red and she was examining her sharp, silver polished nails.  
She looked at both of Oswald’s attackers and gently waved her index finger slowly. She clicked her tongue and then her fingers, jabbing that same hypnotic finger imperiously behind her.  
Oswald’s attackers got the message and left without a word.

Oswald winced and gasped as he sat up. His back felt cold as he rested against the wet alley wall. He felt warmth trickle down his face.  
He heard the woman approaching and managed to raise his head.  
Oswald knew who she was. Everyone in the neighbourhood did.

‘Bullies don't mean shit when you run the playground’, Fish Mooney said dismissively, tossing the kid a handkerchief.

He nodded slowly and swallowed before giving a hoarse ‘thank you’.

‘Wipe your nose boy. Don't want your momma to see you lookin’ so pathetic do ya?’

‘No ma'am’, he replied, holding the material to his nose.

 

Fish watched the white material blossom red and softened a little at how composed the boy was. What she had mistaken for tears was actually sniffing as the boy tried to stop his nose bleeding.  
As he stood gingerly, she saw his eyes weren’t even moist. She knew the type. Someone used to beatings and harsh words who stored them up and used them as fuel to fight back.

‘C'mere a second’.

The boy hesitated but after a moment, warily approached. As he neared, Fish realised the boy was older then she had first thought. His slight frame had caused her to assume he was a teenager but as he drew closer, she reassessed him as being in his mid-twenties.  
He lowered his eyes as she gently touched the bruise around his right eye: it was already swelling and she felt him give the barest of flinches beneath her fingers. She turned his head left to right, examining the bruises under the light. Didn’t look like his eye sockets had been damaged and that rather impressive nose was unbroken.

‘Does it hurt?’ she asked.

‘Not really’, the boy said shrugging.

It was hard for Fish to think of this person as anything other than a boy. The way he kept his head lowered was akin to a sulky teenager expecting a reprimand. He had an underfed, ill-treated look which was worsened by his mussed clothing and physical injuries.

‘Why were you fighting with those boys?’ 

‘They said things about my mother’.

Fish raised an eyebrow at the way the young man’s fist clenched as he spoke, the knuckles even whiter than the clammy skin covering them. The fiercely protective tone of voice surprised her. In a good way. Fish loved her mother too.

‘You swung first?’

‘Yes ma'am’.

‘Don’t know if you’re brave or a glutton for punishment’.

‘Me neither’.

‘One thing’s for sure: you’re tougher than you look’, Fish said, smiling at the young man’s self-deprecating joke.

He stood visibly straighter at the compliment even if he did flinch as his stomach muscles protested.

‘Yes ma'am’.

Manners too? That clinched it for Fish.

‘How would you like a job young man?’

Fish knew most of the young men in the neighbourhood were unemployed and judging from his threadbare clothes, this one was no exception.

‘What kind of job?’ the young man asked, eyes narrowing.

‘One that pays’.

‘I'm not sure what I would have to offer’, the young man said, gesturing to his ragged appearance.

‘You’ve got guts (though they’re probably a little tender right now) and you know how to speak to a lady. Rare commodities in this town’. 

‘What would I have to do?’

‘Keep your mouth shut, your ears on my every word and your eyes on the prize. Maybe give an occasional foot rub or back massage but nothing too…exciting’.

She winked playfully and was rewarded with a blush rising to the young man’s pallid cheeks.

‘What-what kind of prize do you mean?’

Fish reached out and retied the young man’s scarf. She gave it an affectionate pat as she finished, nails tracing the embroidered design above the tassels at the end.

‘I think you have a lot to offer this job my little penguin’.

‘Penguin? Oh’.

She saw the young man touch the embroidered penguin ruefully. Blood had dripped down onto the little bird’s white chest. Fish knew a mother’s handmade present when she saw one.

‘Well what _should_ I call you then?’ she asked, ‘I'm Fish Mooney and you are...?’

She offered her hand, deliberately palm down and fingers together. She was impressed to see the young man did not hesitate before planting a light kiss on the back of her hand. Quite the gentleman.

‘Oswald. Oswald Cobblepot’.

‘Drop by my place tomorrow and we'll get you set up’.

She reached into her coat pocket and flicked a business card towards Oswald. He took it and examined the embossed fish skeleton design on the black card.  
He barely noticed Fish press the umbrella she had been carrying into his other hand before she was gone, her shiny heels clicking against the hard sidewalk.

 

Fish picked up speed as she walked, keen to get back to her bar before the rain ruined her hair. It had felt right to give Oswald the umbrella. The kid was having a lousy enough day. Besides he could return it tomorrow.  
A shadow passed over her and she realised an umbrella was being held over her head.  
She halted immediately and saw Oswald take a step past her before he could stop himself. He stepped back, covering them both.

‘I'm going the same way’, Oswald said, ‘Why not walk together? It’ll keep us both dry’.

Oswald was up on his feet and moving so well after a beating like that? Fish was impressed and she could tell Oswald was keen to continue. So she let him.

‘Why not indeed?’ she smiled taking his arm.

She squeezed his arm and they both began to walk again.  
Oswald’s arm felt thin beneath her fingers but lean and hard.  
He was like her.  
Born and bred in Gotham.  
A scrappy little nothing with something to prove. Sounded familiar. 

_‘I must be getting sentimental in my old age_ ’, she thought, _‘Letting strays follow me home’._


End file.
